


up where they walk

by leighbot



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid Fusion, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 23:12:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13351497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/pseuds/leighbot
Summary: “It’s a bit odd that this guy just appears on the beach you frequent out of nowhere.”Zayn laughs from where he’s leaned out the window, watching the sea as the waves grow stronger though no storm can be found on the horizon. “Curly’s harmless. You’ll see when you meet him. Rhino loves him.”“Rhino’s a shit judge of character,” Louis argues. “He likes me.”“I won’t argue that point.”Or,The Little Mermaid AU.





	up where they walk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [god0nlyknows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/god0nlyknows/gifts).



> For Camie, on the (almost) occasion of her birth!
> 
> Thanks to Tina for EVERYTHING including but not limited to: prereading, cheerleading and title-assistance. Without her, this would never have happened, I 100% mean that.
> 
> Title stolen straight from the movie; I'm super predictable.

The rising sun paints the incoming waves in subtle shades of orange and pink. The sand under Zayn’s bare feet is wet and cold, sucking at the bottom of his arches and getting in between his toes. His boots are tied together by their strings, tossed over one of his shoulders and hitting against his back when he kicks up the foam from the surf.

Rhino has run off ahead a bit, chasing the gulls that are dozing in the calm tide, keeping their places though the water passes gently by. Zayn smiles and casts his eyes around for driftwood or something similar he can use to toss around and distract the pup, intent on giving the poor birds some peace. He whistles, getting Rhino’s attention for a moment before the pup is running off ahead again, always circling back when he gets too far. He comes up to nose at Zayn’s hand ever few moments, the wet of his snout from the sea cold against Zayn’s palm. Rhino is shaping up to be one of Zayn’s best hounds, if a bit spoiled, and Zayn will openly admit the mutt is his favourite.

Another sleepless night has left Zayn feeling tired and ragged. He drags his toes in the surf, drawing nonsense designs before they’re smoothed away. He’s about to take a seat in the sand- his clothes be damned- when Rhino’s barks turn deliberate as if he’s scented an animal. Zayn looks down the shoreline but can only see a dark blur against the light from the rising sun. He starts walking forward, belatedly realising the blur isn’t something brought up from the sea but is actually a person slumped over as if they’re sleeping. Something about their form is off- that can’t be comfortable- and Zayn picks up the pace. The tide is low but the person’s bare feet are close enough to the water they must be wet. He feels alarm race through him when he watches Rhino approach the figure, tail tucked and ears back.

“Rhino, get away!” Zayn calls out, his boots slipping from his shoulder as he breaks into a run.

Rhino glances at him but doesn’t respect the command, sniffing once at the person before his body language changes and he relaxes, jumping around in mirth again. His tail starts wagging and he barks again, short little yips as he jabs his snout against the figure’s form. Zayn’s short of breath when he reaches the two of them, grabbing Rhino by the collar and forcing him to sit.

“One second, dog,” he reprimands.

Out of the corner of his eye he registers that the figure is moving and he breathes a sigh of relief. He had assumed the man was passed out drunk but had feared in the back of his mind that he had been dead, though he hadn’t wanted to actively explore that possibility. The man is reaching out to pet at Rhino’s nose, so he definitely is not dead.

“You’re alive,” Zayn says, his words painted with relief.

The man looks up at him then, eyes squinted nearly closed in the early morning light. He has sand on his face and throughout his curly hair, clumps of it tangled up in what must surely be knots. There’s a dark spot of possibly blood near his temple and his lips are chapped raw. He’s sickly pale but Zayn can hardly see the white for the fresh sunburn bloating and hiding his features.

“Barely alive,” Zayn adds under his breath, noting the dark circles under the man’s eyes. “What the hell?”

The lad… smiles? It’s weird calling his expression that, as his lips crack with the movement and his eyes get somehow sadder, but his teeth are white and even and his features otherwise more pleasant with the motion. There’s even a hint of a dimple under his sun scarred skin and his green eyes are bright behind their exhaustion.

“Are you alright?”

Zayn reaches out a hand and holds the pose for a long moment as the man stares at him as if fascinated. Finally, when Zayn’s about to pull his hand back and call for guards to help the man up and to the palace, he reaches forward and circles his fingers around Zayn’s wrist in a strong hold. Zayn pulls and helps him to his feet, pressing his other hand to the man’s waist when he seems unsteady on his legs. His knees bow in toward each other for a long moment before he straightens them one at a time.

With a subtle sniff of the air to check if the guy is drunk, Zayn turns so they’re hip-to-hip, one hand on his back to help him move forward. “Are you alright?” he repeats, keeping their steps slow as Rhino prances on the man’s other side. The palace isn’t far but the man has a few stone on Zayn and it’s easier to keep him upright if they move slow and steady.

The man makes a soft sound- something between a grunt and a cough- and Zayn turns his head to look over at him. He’s tapping at his throat with his far hand and Zayn furrows his brow.

“Can you not speak?” he asks.

The man smiles and nods, seemingly excited that Zayn’s guessed correctly.

“Okay. Well, Curly- can I call you Curly?” another nod, “we’re gonna get you to the palace and get you cleaned up. Are you hurt anywhere?” Curly shakes his head. “You’ve got a little blood on your face,” Zayn says, reaching up and wiping at it with his thumb.

Curly casts his eyes around, smiling when he sees something as he reaches his hand out and points.

“A rock? You… fell?”

Curly nods.

“Okay, we’ll be careful then. Is anyone else with you?”

Curly turns to look out to the sea, frown deep and eyes set as if he’s straining to see something.

Zayn doesn’t see any cargo or wood that would have washed ashore in a shipwreck but he asks anyway, “Were you on a ship?” Curly shakes his head and points to his chest. “Just you? You’re alone?” He nods and tries to smile, but it’s softer and more sad.

“Let’s lay off the questions for right now,” Zayn says, missing the spark in the man’s eyes. “Let’s just get you inside and cleaned up.”

The man nods and picks up his pace by a fraction, Rhino chasing after the same flock of gulls he’d startled earlier before circling back to them.

 

 

“It’s a bit odd that this guy just appears on the beach you frequent out of nowhere.”

Zayn laughs from where he’s leaned out the window, watching the sea as the waves grow stronger though no storm can be found on the horizon. “Curly’s harmless. You’ll see when you meet him. Rhino loves him.”

“Rhino’s a shit judge of character,” Louis argues. “He likes me.”

“I won’t argue that point.”

Zayn takes a deep breath of the salty air before falling back inside and closing the shutters. “He’s been healing for a few days but he’s coming to dinner tonight. Be kind.”

Louis rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything further and Zayn takes the win.

 

 

The scent of the chef’s crab-stuffed ravioli is strong in the air when Zayn makes his way to the dining room. He notes the new table and lining, running a finger across the silverware. Nice. “Make sure Liam gets our compliments tonight,” Zayn says to Louis. “You know, when you sneak into his rooms because you think no one is watching.”

It’s with a selfish sort of satisfaction that Zayn watches the flush flame across Louis’ cheeks.

“I’m happy for you,” he says genuinely. “I figured, when I saw you two on the beach together after…”

“After the shipwreck.”

Zayn closes his eyes, blocking the memories as best he can. Every time the wreck is mentioned- and every few moments between- Zayn flashes back to the moments he was under the water, tumbling so quickly he couldn’t follow the bubbles to tell which way was up and which way was down.

He doesn’t know how much time passed before he blacked out but he remembers the tug in his gut when a strong arm had grabbed him around the waist and pulled him quickly, inhumanely quickly, to the surface. He remembers the sting of the sea in his nose, the bubble of it in his belly. A flash of green he had thought was an explosion but nothing was burning besides his eyes when he tried to lift his head to look around. He does remember closing his eyes again, fighting off the urge to vomit, and a soft, gentle hand brushing his hair back from his face and a beautiful voice singing him a soothing song- something that had sounded like a lullaby.

No one had been with him when Rhino had found him on the beach shortly after, but Zayn swears someone rescued him and he’s visited every day since, just hoping to find the mystery guy.

“It’s not public knowledge yet,” Louis says when Zayn forces himself back to the present. “I’ve only just written to mum. I’m still technically promised to whatshisface, the Duke of Cheddar.”

Zayn clears his throat, the taste of saltwater tickling his taste buds. Cheddar? Oh, right. Liam and Louis. “Do you think she’ll protest due to his station?” He steps up to his seat at the head of the table, pulling it out and circling it to sit down. “I can raise him from valet if you’d like. Could make him a baron or, I don’t know, an earl.” He takes a deep breath as if to remind himself that his lungs can still do so. It’s hard to shake the memory from his bones.

Louis shakes his head. “He’ll do better for himself, if this were to end, by being on your staff. It will keep him protected. And I’ll be off somewhere with Monsieur Monterey.”

“Is it that serious that he needs the protection?” Zayn asks but Louis stands just then, eyes wide as he looks up to the top of the grand staircase that leads into the dining room. “What?” Zayn starts asks, turning in his chair as his words fade out. “What?” he repeats in a low tone.

The man at the top of the stairs is so unlike the man Zayn found on the beach that, at first, he doesn’t recognize him at all. Curly smiles down at him and Louis before hesitantly placing a clean, tanned hand on the bannister. He looks down as he walks as if he’s nervous to have a misstep, but Zayn doesn’t mind because it gives him plenty of time to give Curly a long once-over.

He’s in an off-white linen shirt that must belong to Zayn, though the way it stretches across Curly’s chest and pulls at his arms is nothing like the way it fits when it’s on him. His breeches are a little short, a thin strip of skin showing above the line of his borrowed boots, but they fit snug around his thighs and hips as if he was poured into them.

Zayn shakes his head to clear his thoughts, not the type of guy to creep on someone who’s just been through something potentially traumatic, but when he turns to pull out a chair for Curly, he catches sight of Louis’ smug expression. “What?”

“You know exactly what,” Louis whispers back as Curly navigates the last steps. “You rescued him?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “He was probably shipwrecked,” he answers in as quiet a tone. “He’d been on the beach at least a day if the burn on his face was any indication.”

“So you admit, at least, that he would be the one rescuing you if he was in his true form?” Louis presses.

Zayn laughs and shrugs, carefree when Curly gets nearer to them. “Hi,” Zayn says, reaching out his hand and trailing a gentle finger across Curly’s arm. “This is Louis, he’s my second.”

Curly immediately narrows his eyes at Louis and it’s the closest thing to an unhappy expression that Zayn’s seen on his face.

“Why is he looking at me like that?” Louis asks out of the corner of his mouth.

“Lou, he’s mute, not deaf.” Zayn cringes, feeling like he’s talking about Curly as if he isn’t even in the room. “Sorry, Curly,” he says, earning a smile from the man. “You hungry?”

Curly nods and links their fingers together. Zayn doesn’t pull away, leading him instead to his seat right next to Zayn’s own. Louis sprawls in his chair across from them, the same bewildered look on his face every time he catches Curly’s eye. At one point, Zayn thinks he sees Curly stick his tongue out but he’s pouring them all glasses of wine and Curly’s face is innocent when Zayn turns to look at him fully.

“Okay,” he says, setting the bottle down. “Curly, do you like crab?”

The lad shakes his head and shrugs.

“You don’t know? Well, you can try it and we’ll get you something else if you don’t. Is that okay?”

Curly nods, leaning closer to Zayn. He thinks for a wild moment Curly is going to kiss him but then the doors to the dining hall bang open and the chef comes in with Rhino following close behind. The dog’s snout is straight up in the air, scrunching with each deep sniff of the seafood dishes being carried above his head.

“Rhino, leave him alone,” Zayn laughs, snapping for the dog’s attention and patting his head when he listens. “Smells great.”

Niall is particularly red in the face, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “I’m… glad,” he says through deep breaths. “Let me… know if… you need… anything… else.”

“You okay, mate?”

The chef nods and turns on his heel with a small bow of his head, the back of his shirt soaked through with sweat as he mutters something about crabs getting loose.

“That was… weird,” Zayn says slowly, still staring after Niall.

“Not as weird as what your friend is doing.”

Zayn raises a brow as he turns to Louis, confused. He follows Louis’ line of sight and nearly chokes on his own spit.

Curly’s got one leg tucked under his bum on his seat, the other bent so he can rest his chest on his own thigh. The casual pose is far from the concern, though, as he’s also got a fork in his left hand that he’s currently twirling through his long, dark curls.

“I…” What is there even to say?

Zayn clears his throat, watching with guilt as Curly flushes at their attention and checks their hands. He must see Louis holding his fork properly and he tosses his onto the table. He huffs, ducking his head so his hair falls in front of his face.

“Hey, no,” Zayn says, reaching for Curly’s hand. “That’s… another use for it I haven’t seen before. Will you show me?”

“Zayn-“

“Louis, shut up or I’ll write to your Marquis de Mascarpone and tell him you’re moving the wedding up,” Zayn hisses, squeezing his fingers and leading Curly to the fork. “Please show me.”

Curly shakes his head but Zayn squeezes again and he finally looks up.

“Please?”

With a tiny grin, a fraction of the light back in his green eyes, Curly picks up the fork again. He motions for Zayn to do the same and Zayn finally lets him go, picking up his own fork and bringing it to his hair when Curly does the same. He feels like an idiot but the growing light in Curly’s eyes is completely worth it as he twirls the tines through his own black curls, pulling the fork out in one long motion before working another piece.

“Try it, Louis.”

“You’re kidd- okay you’re not kidding,” Louis says, placing his fork down and picking up a clean one, tugging his hair from its tie and quickly combing the fork through. “This, hmm,” Louis says, scratching at his scalp a bit. “This kind of feels nice.”

“Maybe next time you won’t be such a prick,” Zayn snarks, putting his fork back on the table when Curly smiles brightly again. “Thank you,” he tells him, “for teaching me something new.”

Curly pats the back of Zayn’s hand before picking up his crab meat pasta with his fingers and popping a bite into his mouth.

 

 

“Maybe take him out for a ride, sir. He might see something or someone he recognizes.”

Zayn watches Curly playing tug-of-war with Rhino, letting the dog get the advantage before trying to yank the toy back. Rhino isn’t fooled, his teeth in a tight grip and his lips pulled back as if he’s smiling; he’s besotted with Curly through-and-through after only a few days together.

“I feel bad treating him like he’s a stray dog,” Zayn admits in a low tone, turning away from the domestic scene in front of him and leveling Liam a worried look. “I don’t want him to get frustrated if he doesn’t remember.”

“He’s a nice lad,” Liam agrees, shrugging his shoulders. “He might have a home somewhere, though, and someone missing him. It’s been over a week.”

Zayn nods, knowing his friend is right. Liam’s always been annoyingly logical like that. “Rhino’s going to blame you when his new friend is gone.”

“I’m sure I can work my way back into his good graces, sir,” Liam says, a wry twist of his lips accompanying the drip of sarcasm from his words.

Zayn sighs and dismisses him with a quick ‘thank you’ before he walks into the open room and interrupts the game. He thinks Curly is about a second away from putting the end of the toy in his own mouth and his teeth are far too nice for Zayn to let anything like that happen to them.

“I was thinking of going into town for a bit. Would you like to come along?”

Curly nods, standing quickly and brushing off his breeches. He smiles and extends his hand.

“Um, yeah,” Zayn says after a moment, grabbing Curly’s hand and placing it in the crook of his own elbow. He leads them down to the stables, commenting on the nice day they’re having and the way the birds are singing. Curly nods and waves his free hand a lot in answer, and Zayn’s pleased to find they can fight through a small conversation together even with so few words.

The small buggy is already pulled out and cleaned- Liam faster than the wind and the most efficient person in the entire palace- and one of Zayn’s groomsmen is leading out his largest gelding.

“Hi, Q,” he says, patting the horse on his hindquarters. “How are you today, old boy?”

“He’s doing well, sir,” the groomsman answers on the horse’s behalf. “He’s been exercised this morning a bit so he’s the perfect temperament today.

“Sounds great,” Zayn says, running a hand along the horse’s back until he hooks a finger around the harness. He barely realises at first that Curly has stepped away. “You’re amazing, James,” he tells the groomsman. “His coat is practically glowing.”

“Thank you, sir. Will you be needing an accompiant or a… chaperone?” James asks, voice lowering on the last word.

Zayn flushes scarlet, retreating from the horse and standing at Curly’s side again. “That’s not necessary,” he assures. “We’ll be fine alone.”

“Yes, sir.”

Curly watches the exchange but doesn’t seem upset when Zayn turns back to him and extends his arm again. He hooks his hand around on his own this time and smiles, squeezing Zayn’s forearm and letting Zayn lead him to the buggy. “Watch your step,” Zayn says softly, following Curly up and taking his seat. There’s plenty of space on the cushioned bench but Zayn finds that he doesn’t feel the urge to slide away when their knees brush ever so slightly.

The reins hang over the ledge before them, Q waiting patiently for his next directions. Zayn’s about to grab for them when Louis steps out from the barn, a smirk on his otherwise pretty face.

“Going for a ride?”

“Shut up,” Zayn growls, shifting and sitting straighter.

“I think you might need a chaperone. Young sirs should not be alone together.”

Before Zayn can do anything in retaliation- stick out his tongue, flip him the bird, threaten to have him imprisoned- the buggy is jumping forward at a quick pace and he’s thrown back off of his seat. “Oh, shit, oww,” he groans, righting himself. Every horsemen’s instinct he has is telling him to get control of Q no matter what but he notices right away that Q is already under control- Curly is encouraging him, his hands gentle on the reins.

“How- you’re a good driver,” Zayn says, arse sore from the tumble but otherwise unharmed. “Why’d you do that, though?” Curly turns an unhappy face to him, pretty mouth turned down in a frown and eyes stormy and sad all at once. Zayn replays the past sixty seconds in his head. “You- oh. Louis wasn’t really going to come with us.”

Curly relaxes, slumping a bit in his seat though his lips still don’t turn up in a smile.

“You really don’t like him, huh?” Zayn notes, laughing. “I bet his ego will hate that. Keep him at a distance, Curly, he’ll be begging for your friendship soon.”

Curly huffs in dissatisfaction, a lock of his fringe moving with his breath. Zayn laughs and claps him on the knee, letting him keep the reins.

“Q knows where he’s going,” Zayn says before kicking up his feet and putting his arms behind his head. “Wake me when we get there.”

He’s not intending to fall asleep- doesn’t know Curly well enough to have complete faith that he can handle Q if the gelding gets in a mood- but Curly won’t allow him to even if he did desire, since he starts poking him every few seconds.

“Geroff,” Zayn swats him away, which only encourages him to poke harder. “Curly, I’m awake, I promise.” Curly nudges a bit higher, getting Zayn right under the ribs and he jerks away as the touch tickles. “I’ll stand, if you’d like,” he says, making no move to stand but letting his feet fall to the floor.

Curly is smiling again when Zayn looks over.

 

 

Three hours later and no closer to finding out Curly’s full story, Zayn steers Q back into the barn and jumps out of the buggy to let him off of the harness. James is there to whisk him away.

“Treat him well,” Zayn says, “he was very behaved for Curly.”

“Yes, sir.”

Curly’s dozing on the bench, eyes closed and hair falling over his face. He reminds Zayn of a painting- might actually be one soon if the itch in Zayn’s fingers has any say- and doesn’t shift even as the buggy settles without the gelding keeping it straight. Zayn wipes his hands on his trousers, the leather of the reins a phantom feeling on his palms, and is about to wake the lad when he hears hooves behind him.

His valet is coming into the barn, cheeks red, lips puffy and a silly smile on his face as he leads one of the mares into her stall. He doesn’t notice Zayn before he’s gone and Zayn stands there another moment. He’s confused until another man comes around the corner, a gentle bay following behind him like a duckling.

“Zayn, oh. Hi,” Louis says, coming to a stop abruptly.

“Zayn? Where?” Liam says from the stall, sticking his head out and turning the direction Louis is facing. “Zayn, I mean. Sir. Hi. I. Um.”

Zayn raises a hand, palm forward. “It’s okay, Liam. Don’t stress. I was just… surprised to see you two together,” in the daylight goes unsaid. Louis and Liam have been sneaking around for weeks since the wreck. It’s startling and… nice, seeing them enjoying themselves.

“I can get dinner ready for you sir, if you’d like.”

“Liam, stop,” Zayn laughs. “It’s fine, really. I’m going to take Curly inside and get him to bed. His own bed,” he says, watching Louis’ mouth open. “Take the rest of the day to do… whatever you’d like. I insist.”

“Yes, sir,” Louis says, saluting like a fool and pushing Liam back into the stall as he coaxes his own mount to the one next door.

“If you change your mind-”

“I won’t!” Zayn cuts off Liam’s offer, turning to wake Curly and finding him already alert, eyes open and hair brushed back though he hasn’t sat up. “Hi.”

Curly mouths hello back.

“You want to go inside? I’ve got… books and games and a dog who is infatuated with you.”

Curly nods, yawning and stretching as he stands. He lets Zayn lead him down from the buggy and their hands stay loosely linked all the way back to the palace.

 

 

Though Zayn technically lives at any number of castles or palaces along the coast, his true home is his beautiful ship.

The HMS Fantail stands tall and true, the men and women of the crew hustling about to fix the minor damage the last large storm had caused. Zayn’s cabin was the most impacted, a hole in the side through which the waves swept him away, and he watches as new boards are raised and pressed into place. He’s banned from going on board until Louis clears him and his second won’t do so until he feels Zayn is ‘over’ the wreck.

Getting back into the water is apparently the only way to convince him but Zayn… can’t.

For a Prince of a kingdom along the water, he hadn’t exactly taken to the sea like a fish when he’d been a wee one. He’s never been a great swimmer but he could do well enough. The burn of the salt water in his lungs haunts him. He had thought he could do well enough, it seems. Then the waves had risen higher than his feather-adorned sails merely a month before and he’d lost his faith in his own abilities.

He’s hiding out on a rock wall near enough to his ship he can watch over her but far enough from the palace that Louis won’t be looking for him. Rhino’s chasing ducks and playing in the waves, running back to Zayn every so often to check in.

“Bring me a stick and I’ll throw it for ya,” Zayn encourages, tossing loose rocks along the wall when the hole in his boat is finally closed and he can’t look inside any longer. Rhino ignores him, running along the surf with his nose to the ground, sniffing for the ducks that have flown away for the moment. Zayn tosses a twig he finds towards the pup but his aim is shit and the branch doesn’t go far.

After a moment of contemplation- could he really force himself back into the water?- Rhino abandons his search and rushes over to the trail leading down from the palace.

“Disloyal mutt,” Zayn sighs, laying back. The rocks press against the sharp points of his spine but he just shifts a bit, letting one leg dangle while he watches the clouds overhead.

A moment or twenty later, he hears Rhino’s large paws smacking the ground as he trots. Zayn sits up and looks over, pleasantly surprised when he sees the dog leading Curly down to the beach. He wants to call out to him but Curly hasn’t looked his way yet. His gaze is single-mindedly focused on the water and Zayn wants to tell him to stay back, he doesn’t have to go right in after a shipwreck, but Curly just kicks off his boots- stumbling a little in the most endearing way- and wades in until he’s waist deep.

Rhino swims next to him, enjoying the water, and Zayn finds himself entranced as Curly plays with him. Curly lets Rhino swim back to shore eventually and he ducks under the water for the first time.

And he stays down.

Curly is under the water for so long that Zayn gets worried and jumps down from his wall, feet pounding the sand as he runs to the water. He tugs off his shirt first and then his boots and throws them to the ground, no hesitation in his mind. Before the surf can hit his discarded clothing, though, Curly is pushing back to the surface, arching his back and flipping his hair so it arcs over him in a glittering wave. It smacks against his back loud enough that Zayn can hear.

Curly’s pushing a hand through his wet curls when he looks to the beach and sees Zayn, an expression of shock crossing his face. Zayn raises his hand in a wave- smooth, he tells himself- and tries to smile but he can’t. He’s trying really, really hard to not look at the now-transparent white blouse and how it leaves not a single bit of Curly’s torso the imagination but he can’t tear his eyes away from all of the tattoos he can now see.

Curly wades back to him with a grin, completely oblivious to the awful thoughts Zayn’s having- he could taste the sea right now if he were to bite down on those inked laurel leaves- and stands tall next to Zayn when he walks far enough out of the water. He isn’t even breathing deep, Zayn notes in the back of his mind.

“Hi.”

Curly gives him a hug in greeting, his water-logged breeches and blouse heavy against Zayn’s dry clothes. When Curly pulls away he frowns at the wet spots.

“It’s okay,” Zayn assures. “It’s fine.”

Curly nods slowly as if he’s accepting what Zayn’s saying though his frown doesn’t disappear. He turns away for a second, looking out on the water, before turning back and grabbing Zayn’s hand. He tugs and takes a step, pulling Zayn gently deeper and Zayn doesn’t immediately say no.

He follows until the water’s at his thighs, distantly aware of the algae curling around his ankles and the rocks and sand under his toes. Curly lets go of his hand but dives underwater, kicking his legs together and propelling himself out of Zayn’s reach in only a second’s time.

“I can’t,” Zayn says when Curly breaks the surface again, though less dramatically this time. He tilts his head to the side. “Aren’t you…” scared sounds so demeaning but the word is on the tip of his tongue almost before he can choke it back. “You were shipwrecked a week ago and you’re already in the water?”

Curly shrugs and shakes his head. Okay, maybe not shipwrecked. Zayn doesn’t know what happened to him just yet but he’ll figure it out one day. He stays rooted to his spot and lets Curly and even Rhino splash around him in a circle.

“I’m not going deeper,” he laughs, shooing them away.

Curly’s laughing at him, the act silent but the delight on his face unmistakable. He beckons to Zayn with one of his fingers, smirking teasingly as Zayn shakes his head and crosses his arms.

Rhino, the traitor mutt, corrals Zayn like he’s part sheepdog, herding him by brushing and pressing against his legs until Zayn’s forced to either take a step or face dive into the water.

“Rhino, get, c’mon.”

Curly steps closer and grabs for both of Zayn’s hands, uncrossing his arms and tugging again.

“I’ll go in deeper if you tell me your name,” Zayn tries to barter, laughing when Curly rolls his eyes. Curly lets go of one of Zayn’s hands and holds his own palm up, as if waiting for payment or a treat of some kind. “You want me to guess?” Curly nods.

“Is it Curly?”

A pursed mouth and crinkled eyes is his only response.

“No, hmm… okay, let’s see. Alessandro?”

A raised brow and slow shake of the head.

“Okay,” he repeats. “Is it Mitchell?”

A small snort and a crinkle of Curly’s nose is enough to show him he’s wrong. Curly opens his mouth wide, clearly mouthing something.

“Sorry, try again.”

He opens his mouth again as if he’s getting his tonsils checked before closing his lips almost all the way together and then smiling open-mouthed.

“Oh, this is such a fun game,” Zayn says, trying not to laugh as Curly keeps repeating the action. He doesn’t show any signs of frustration when Zayn can’t figure it out. “Haa… rrr… Harry! Is your name Harry?”

Curly, well… Harry, nods excitedly. “Okay. Harry. Hi, Harry.”

Harry waves, all his teeth showing in a wide smile and his cheek showing a dimple a mile deep.

“Harry… that fits you I guess. Could I still call you Curly sometimes?”

Harry’s smile softens but doesn’t fade completely. Zayn takes that one as a yes. He walks just a bit further into the water and his toes slip on the rocks below but Harry’s there to catch him, strong arms wrapped around Zayn like a lifeline. Zayn looks up and straightens, his face merely a breath away from Harry’s, and he thinks for a wild moment of kissing him.

A wave breaks behind them just then, soaking him through with spray and startling them apart. Zayn laughs, the moment passing by, and retreats.

“That’s all I can take today,” he says. “Stay out here with Rhino as long as you’d like. I’m going to go paint for a bit.”

Harry nods, a frown turning down his pouty mouth and Zayn mentally kicks himself for missing out on the moment.

 

 

“Another letter from homebase?” Louis asks, reading Zayn’s expression easily.

Zayn tosses it down with a deeper scowl.

“Let me guess: when are you going to become more responsible or maybe we love you but you need to come home and put this life behind you or, no, I’ve got it your sister is ready to take your place, just say the word.”

“Ding ding ding,” Zayn says, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “The love my parents have for me is only eclipsed by their sense of civic duty. I can hear their guilt in every line.”

“Well, have you given it a thought?”

Zayn looks at him, brow raised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… have you thought about doing what they ask: retiring your sea legs- weren’t that great anyway- and returning home? Home-home, not… here-home.”

“My sea legs are fabulous,” Zayn returns. “And this is my home.”

“You know what I mean. When are you going to grow up, Peter Pan?”

“Rich,” Zayn mumbles, kicking out and knocking Louis’ knee with his toe. “What about you?”

“I,” Louis starts, standing tall and puffing out his chest- He looks ridiculous, like an offended bird, but Zayn doesn’t tell him- “have received my mother’s blessing and now I am asking Liam to marry me. Today.”

Zayn sits up straight at that, the bottom of his stomach feeling like it’s falling away. “You’re what?”

“Mum wrote back that she doesn’t care who I marry, she trusts my judgment and is excited to meet him. The Earl of Brie will find another suitor. Promises are broken all of the time.”

“Just like that?”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t ask Harry to marry you if you had the chance?”

Zayn scoffs. “It’s been three weeks, Louis. Of course I wouldn’t. He barely knows me.”

“So you’re holding back because you don’t think he’d say yes? The lad adores you. He’s always looking around for you and is never happier than when the two of you sneak off together.”

“No. I. I’m not holding back from anything.”

“So you do want to ask him?”

Frustrated, Zayn stands. “Back off, Lou.”

“Zayn, c’mon, just lean in and give him a little kiss, see what he does.”

“I mean it, Louis. Stop.”

“Aww, I’m just playing.”

“I know and it’s still annoying. Let it go.”

Louis takes a step away, hands up. “Sorry, man. I’ll let you have time.” He walks away and the tight muscle in Zayn’s jaw loosens a bit. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down, and nearly shouts when Louis’ head pops around the corner again. “Real quick, though, and in all seriousness: I would give up my title for Liam and I think you feel- or could feel- that way for Harry. Talk to your mum about it before you make any decisions.”

Zayn nods shallowly, Louis finally leaving him alone. He shrugs off the bad mood as he leans out the window of his hidden corner of the palace. Only Louis knows to find him here and only Louis knows how to get on every single one of Zayn’s nerves at once.

It’s probably some kind of curse Zayn’s under that his parents never mentioned, being saddled with Louis Tomlinson as a best friend.

He sees Harry and Niall down by the water, Niall apparently showing him how he reels in the nets from the sea. Fish for dinner tonight, then. He gets his elbows on the hard stone, leaning his weight forward as he watches them. Harry’s woven himself into the fabric of the palace like it’s been his home all along; he studies cooking with Niall and has even shown him some of his own recipes; he follows Liam around and bickers wordlessly with him about almost everything in the most endearing way; he even seems to have warmed up to Louis, letting the older boy accompany him on his early morning walks with the dog pack before Zayn’s even thought of waking for the day.

Zayn remembers his own daily walks, meeting the sun over the waters when he couldn’t sleep and trying to find the same solace in the sea he’d known as a lad. He realises he hasn’t been on one since the day he found Harry; he has slept soundly every night since. He wakes in the mornings and the first thoughts he has are all about Harry. He waits for the lad to come back from his walks, always a cup of tea or bag of breakfast from Niall clutched tightly in Zayn’s hand. He sits next to Harry when he eats or reads, doesn’t like to be far away from him when he’s writing or needs to tend to something with Liam. When he picks up pen or paints lately, it’s always Harry on his mind as if his fingers have forgotten any other form. Zayn spends almost every moment of his day with Harry or wanting to be back with him.

The fact that he’s entirely in love with Harry has escaped him until this very moment, the realisation smacking him in the face. It takes his breath away, that he could be so completely oblivious, and he’s over-the-moon happy for a long, long moment until he also realises that this means Louis was right about the entire thing and Zayn will never, ever live it down.

He pushes off from the window, leaving the room and taking the stairs two at a time at a jog. He needs to be near Harry, needs to see him and tell him how he feels and pray, pray so hard, that Harry feels the same. He’s at the final landing, boots landing loudly on the granite floor, when he hears Niall shouting.

Dread replaces any excitement he had been feeling and he runs as quickly as he can through the entrance hall and down the steps to the water access.

“Where is he?” Zayn shouts, Niall standing alone in the surf, the water at his knees.

“He just… disappeared!”

“What do you mean?”

His shouting has alerted the dogs and the rest of his team, Louis and Liam coming out of the palace together at a run and the pack barking and sniffing around Zayn’s feet and into the incoming tide in distress.

“I mean just that: he disappeared, sir. He was standing here with me one moment and I was showing him how to cast the nets out again when he kind of yelped and just…”

“People don’t just disappear!”

“Well, he fell in the water and now he’s gone!”

“The sea took him?” Zayn asks, heart stopping as he wades out further than Niall into the water.

Louis comes up to his shoulder, waters rippling around them. “Tide’s in, Zayn. He didn’t get swept away.”

“WHERE IS HE, THEN?” he shouts, turning around to face the beach and the men stood there, all wearing the same expression of nervous confusion.

“I’m right here.”

In his weakest moments, Zayn has wondered what Harry’s voice would sound like. Even when he was only known as Curly, Zayn would find himself staring blankly at a book as he imagined how the mysterious newcomer would open his mouth one day and tell Zayn his name, all proud of himself and smiling when Zayn would repeat it.

As if on instinct, he knows it’s Harry he’s going to see when he turns around.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth.”

“You can speak,” Zayn says, spinning slowly on his heels in the water, the small waves breaking against his stomach. It’s the deepest he’s been since the shipwreck but he barely notices.

Harry’s before him, close enough Zayn thinks the tips of his fingers could touch. He’s shirtless and in water up near his shoulders, bobbing in place easily. Rhino comes paddling out to them, the water deeper than he usually goes, and he circles Harry once as if checking him out.

“Rhino, go to shore,” Harry orders, the dog listening obediently. Harry turns with Rhino’s arc, and Zayn catches a glimpse of seashells tucked in his curly hair. His hair is tamed, too- not quite the unruly mop it tends to be in when Harry’s been in the sea.

“What… happened?” Zayn asks.

“I wanted to tell you the truth so many times but I didn’t know how.”

“Truth about what?”

“Zayn, I wasn’t in a shipwreck or cast away onshore. I’m… Well, I’m a son of Poseidon and I live… here.”

“Who? Where?”

Harry smiles softly. “Poseidon- the sea god. I live here, right here. I’m the seventh son and I made a wish-”

“A Wish? Harry, c’mon. Just come inside and we’ll dry off and talk- how long have you been able to _talk_? The whole time?”

“I can’t go inside, Zayn.”

“Why not? Come on, we’ll sit on the beach then. Let’s get out of the water.” Zayn hears the hysteria in his tone but he can’t rein it in. “Let’s go, c’mon.”

“Zayn!” Harry snaps, the first time he’s ever truly shown frustration with Zayn and not just at something else. “I’m a merman.”

“No. That’s… no, c’mon. Let’s go.” He’s stammering and stalling and he knows that Harry knows it, too.

“Look.” Harry dives into the water, his hands brushing past Zayn’s thighs almost at the same time a purple and blue tail breaks through the water, following Harry as if it’s… Harry’s tail.

Zayn blacks out.

 

 

“You can’t do this every time we talk,” Harry’s saying as Zayn blinks his eyes open, dimly registering the sand coating his arms and legs and Harry’s hands brushing his hair back from his face.

“You’re the one who pulled me out of the sea during the storm,” Zayn mumbles, closing his eyes again. “You sang to me.”

“I couldn’t let anything happen to you,” Harry says. “My birthday was the next day and, as a birthday wish, I asked my father for legs. I’ve been in love with you for such a long time, my prince.” Harry leans in and presses a gentle kiss to Zayn’s brow. “I wanted to see everything your world has to offer.”

“I love you, too,” Zayn says, focused only on that most important fact. He loves Harry. He _loves_ Harry. With everything inside of him, he loves Harry.

“But,” Harry continues, “I don’t belong here. I couldn’t convince my father to let me stay on land.”

Zayn opens his eyes and sits up, instantly dizzy with a head rush. His nostrils are burning once again from the salt in the water. “You can’t leave!” he insists. “I don’t want you to go anywhere; I want to introduce you to my parents and propose to you and travel the world with you by my side.

“All wishes are temporary, my love. I had to exhaust my voice for the chance to harness my legs but it was completely worth the silence. Being with you was worth it all.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Zayn repeats, taking in the sight of Harry’s tail, the scales starting low beneath his belly button and layering all the way down to two beautifully blue fins where they splash in the water. He’s wonderful, awesome to look at and Zayn lifts a hand cautiously.

“You can touch.”

Zayn swallows and complies, letting his fingers brush along Harry’s scales. He watches Harry shudder from the touch and he throws his arms around Harry’s shoulders, holding on tight. “Please stay.”

“Harry.”

The voice sounds like it’s trying to be soft but can’t quite manage, booming the name across the water and up the small stretch of beach. Zayn lets Harry go in order to turn around. He sees a man out in the sea, far enough that a ship could anchor in the deep waters. He’s exposed from the chest up, the definition in his muscles clear over the distance. Poseidon.

“You’re really… that’s your father… I… this is unbelievable.”

“I have to go.”

“Don’t leave me here without you,” Zayn says, wrapping his arms around Harry again.

Harry’s hands are firm against Zayn’s back, another soft kiss gently placed to the same point on Zayn’s brow. “I’ll never be far from you, I promise.”

Zayn feels tears stinging his eyes and nose, the already sore skin from his fainting now burning worse. “Can I have a kiss? Just once.”

Harry grins, leaning down and tilting Zayn’s chin up.

It’s everything- the kiss is the beginning and the end and all the moments in between. Zayn feels every emotion race through his chest- his heart pumping fast enough it could burst- and he sighs in almost relief once they part. “Intense,” he says, licking his lips to chase the taste.

“I gotta go.”

Before Zayn can stop him again- throw himself at Harry or just start crying like a child- Harry’s gone, having jumped effortlessly into the water. He’s at his father in the time it takes Zayn to draw breath, his head breaking the surface and his father’s arms around his shoulders as they embrace.

“I swear I haven’t smoked anything.”

Zayn’s laugh is snotty and gross and he happily accepts the dry hankie Louis hands him.

“A fucking merman. How are you going to tell your parents you’re in love with a fish?”

“I fucking hate you so much,” Zayn returns, though he lets Louis pull him into a hug. “I can’t believe you were right.”

“You’ll get used to it eventually.”

Zayn watches as Harry gets excited about something, his shout heard back on the beach and his arms suddenly thrown around his father’s shoulders. The merman is like stone, not even a ripple from his movements as he slowly hugs Harry back. “Thank you,” Zayn hears Harry say. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Hope rises in Zayn’s chest.

Poseidon lowers his trident, a kiss on Harry’s brow before he’s gliding away and pointing his weapon into the water.

“He’s coming back!” Louis shouts.

Zayn doesn’t respond, already rushing out into the sea and diving under the water. He’s fully submersed for the first time since he was ripped away from his ship but he doesn’t care- isn’t afraid. He swims with all his might to get to Harry, a bright light cutting through the dark water the only thing that stops him. He settles in his place, treading water as Harry approaches him. His bare legs are kicking out behind him. It’s the best thing Zayn’s ever seen, he thinks.

“You’re staying?” Zayn asks to confirm.

“I’m staying.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” Harry says, getting his arms around Zayn and kissing him again.

 

 

Out of all the interesting things to happen to Zayn since falling in love with Harry, having tea with his parents and Poseidon is probably going to jump straight to the top of the list.

Thankfully, being a kingdom near the sea means there are plenty of water-adjacent patios and docks that typically host any number of boats in its harbour. Zayn helps Liam setup the tables and chairs, Zayn’s anxiety at full capacity as he straightens every piece of silverware or decoration around the plates.

“Baby,” Harry says, coming up behind him. Zayn would have been surprised any other time but all of his energy is focused on this afternoon and he can’t spare any attention to Harry’s strong arms wrapping around his waist. “He’s going to love them.”

“I’m not worried about _that_ ,” Zayn promises. “I’m worried he’s going to change his mind about _me_.”

“I won’t and so he won’t.”

Zayn tries to take a deep breath but a _plop_ in the water startles him and he spins around.

“Poseidon, you’re here!”

“Hi, daddy,” Harry says, letting go of Zayn to lean down and give his father a kiss on the cheek. “Miss you.”

The first time Zayn had seen the sea god, he had been amazed by the definition and power etched into his chest and arms. He looks like a true warrior, battle scars littering his sides from an old sea war Harry had told him about. The story had played like any other battle on land and Zayn respects the man, not only as his future father-in-law, but as the leader he is.

Knowing him better now, having met him several times with Harry while they traveled to meet with Zayn’s parents, he sees the way his expression softens around his youngest son. He can read the smile in the barest tilt of Poseidon’s mouth and see the way his gills almost… sigh in relief when he is assured that Harry is still happy and safe.

“Hello, Zayn.” Poseidon’s voice is still hard to get used to, a deep bass sound that rattles Zayn’s chest when he’s unprepared.

“Hello, sir.”

“I have a gift for your parents but I want to be sure it’s acceptable first.”

Surprised, Zayn blinks several times in quick succession. “I’m sure it’s lovely but I’ll take a look. Where is- oh wow,” he says, movement out in the water catching his eye. “A water chariot. That’s… wow.”

A team of dolphins is harnessed to the carriage, eagerly bobbing in place and “talking” to each other as they await Poseidon’s orders. Zayn’s been in a water chariot exactly once and had immediately regretted it- dolphins, though strong and smart, are too unsteady to pull in a smooth manner and Zayn had been completely soaked two minutes into the trip. Harry had been delighted, though, a part of him always happier in the sea, and Zayn had promised that he would go again.

It looks like his parents have the next honours.

“That’s very generous, daddy,” Harry says for him, clearly reading Zayn better than he realises. “I don’t know if it’s… dignified enough for a Land King. They’re different up here, daddy.”

“I’ll say. What about-“ and he points his trident towards the chariot, a brightness akin to lightning erupting from the tip. Instantly, the chariot is gone and the dolphins are swimming in circles in its place, breaking the water in lovely arcs and playing freely with each other. “Would they be able to care for them?”

“Yes, sir,” Zayn assures. “We’ll keep them free but always have a home and food here for them if needed. We have a veterinarian on staff as well; she checks in on all our marine animals.”

“That’s settles that. Let’s meet them, shall we?”

Zayn takes another deep breath, steeling himself against his nerves and turning to face Liam, who has been watching the exchange with a very Tomlinson-like smirk on his face. “Would you mind announcing Poseidon’s arrival?”

Liam salutes and jogs away, back towards the castle.

“This is going to be fun,” Harry says, squeezing Zayn’s arm.

Fun. Yeah. Zayn’s so sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! [Come say hi](http://iamleighbot.tumblr.com/)!


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